KOTOR: Broken
by Kotorchix
Summary: Dark Jedi Hagan Juul has attempted to raise a clone of the Dark Lady Revan. However, the five backup clones escaped from the cloning facility... Hagan has to stop them before his plans are ruined.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

_Revan was one to listen to his advisers. Why he didn't this time, I don't know why. I warned him that Malak would turn against him, but he simply waved his hand loftily and grated in his metallic voice – less gravelly than his apprentice's – that he knew and would deal with it when the time came._

_But I knew that he wouldn't be prepared when that time came. That is why I went to measures to ensure that the galaxy would not be free of Revan once Malak betrayed him._

_Perhaps Revan always knew that he would not be ready when Malak made his move. Perhaps Revan had a secret agenda of his own, perhaps he knew that one day he would once again become a Jedi Knight; we'll never know._

_My story is not so much mine as it is Revan's._

Warning lights flared across the Bridge. Blues, greens, and yellows, but most of them were red. They created a miniature Coruscant landscape across the instrument panels as crewmen ran from consoles to battle stations.

A small fleet of Republic Hammerheads had jumped out of hyperspace, into the path of the two Sith warships. Darth Malak had cut communications with Revan's ship, the _Revanchist_. Why he did this, only two people knew. Himself, and another dark jedi.

It was not Revan. He went by the name of Hagan Juul, once a handsome man, but so corrupted by the dark side that his skin was now a corpse-like gray. His once blue eyes were now a violent turmoil of shades of red and yellow. Slenderly built, yet muscular, Hagan was a common sight on the Bridge of the _Revanchist._ He was Revan's sole advisor, having forseen the future on numerous occasions and sensing happenings through-out the galaxy. Hagan was a battlemaster with the lightsaber, his forcepowers focused mainly into mind control. He knew why Malak had cut communications.

_Revan had his back to the rest of the Bridge. Many would say he was meditating as they waited for the arrival of Malak on his ship, the _Avenger_. However, I knew differently. Approaching Revan, I felt it was time to warn him. Slipping into place next to him, I stared out into the stars, the same as he was._

_After a small silence, Revan's masked face turned towards me. He never would take that mask off. Before he had taken the mask from a fallen Mandalorian warrior he had worn a black mask as if he was afraid to show his face. Many suspected that he also owned an artificial voice changer which was clipped to his throat. Why he went so far to hide his identity nobdoy knew; many believed that he was actually a very young man with a high-pitched voice and baby face. _

"_What is it, Hagan?" Revan's metallic voice grated. _

"_Malak will not stay with you. He is headstrong and does not take easily to having leaders over himself," I replied._

_Revan turned to look out at the stars again. "I know," he stated._

"_He will betray you soon."_

"_I know," Revan's voice turned wistful. "It's a shame... he made a good friend once."_

"_What are you going to do?" I asked him, unable to sense his thoughts. It was if a dark blanket had pressed in around my mind. I had not been able to sense anything in the future or galaxy since the recent awakening to Malak's intentions._

_Revan made a small chortle sound, as if he found something to be amusing, "I'll be prepared for it when he does."_

_I opened my mouth to ask him if it was wise to just leave it at that. However, Revan raised his hand to forstall my question. "Hagan, do not worry. He'd be an idiot to even try to assassinate me."_

_And that was the end of that... until about an hour later – thirty minutes after the _Avenger_ slipped out of hyperspace._

Revan stood among the whirlwind of action on the Bridge. Hagan did not approach him, as he knew there was nothing to say. He could only state the obvious. It was undeniable that the Jedi had finally gotten the guts to attack Revan and Malak. It was a small task force, but that didn't matter as the three Hammerheads were up against two Sith Warships. Closing his eyes, Hagan sensed for the Jedi through the Force.

Twelve jedi were on a shuttle, dodging lasers that spat from multiple sithfighters hunting them. Hagan knew where they were going. He knew what would happen. He knew that they were a boarding party, sent to kill Darth Revan... _kill?_

He lingered over that thought, then cloaked himself with the Force, becoming all but invisable to the crewmen running willy nilly over the Bridge and to the other dark jedi that stood quietly by, knowing that they would have their turn at the battle very soon. Only Hagan knew how soon.

_The young woman's name was Bastila Shan. An insignificant detail, as that was only a title. Names had meanings, but in this case, those unsaid words in a name were unneeded. I needed to know why the other Jedi protected her as they fought their way from the small shuttle. Their numbers dwindled, but soon the remainder of them rushed onto the bridge with a small accompaniment of Republic soldiers. _

_Dark jedi took down the soldiers, and the jedi took down the dark jedi in turn. Revan stretched out his hand and used the Force to crush the windpipe of one Republic officer that had survived the dark jedi. I watched as the young woman named Bastila stepped towards Revan, her yellow lightsaber raised high in defiance to what we stood for. _

_Revan tilted his head to the side, his own red lightsaber already lit for the battle. The young woman was now only three meters from him. With boldness beyond her years of little experience, she spoke out against our leader._

"_You can not win, Revan."_

_Those words would stay with me forever, as that became my life's goal to change them._

Hagan stayed within the Force cloak he had pulled around himself. He sensed for Revan's mind and found that his leader believed him to be dead, along with the other dark jedi. Hagan was surprised to sense a sort of sadness emitting from the thought within Revan's mind. He cared for his advisor and had not expected him to abandon him to embrace death so quickly.

_Now! It is coming!_ Hagan didn't need to think twice about what it was that was coming. He leapt off the ground, using the force to grip himself in his own little world of gravity, which soon became the center of the Bridge. He floated in the air, invisable... and then, suddenly...

… _it happened. _

_The Bridge filled with brilliant light and everything seemed to go in slow motion. Smoke whirled and fires sprung up from the consoles as a brilliant shockwave hit the ship. Revan was thrown into one of the crewpits and two of the jedi were consumed by flames. Bastila was thrown against one of the viewports to slump to the ground. The last remaining jedi hit her head and was killed instantly._

_I remained floating in the smoke only long enough to make sure that Bastila had passed out. Then I let my feet hit the deck. Running over to Revan, I ripped off his mask. Gasping, I couldn't hide my shock at what I saw. Revan was no man. _

_Revan was a woman. Her long black eyelashes rested gently on her pale cheeks. I had never seen a sith that had retained her beauty. Less recklessly, I gently lifted the black hood from her beautiful black hair. It was long and silky, with a splendid sheen to it. I knew what I had to do. There was no time to hesitate._

_I pulled out a chunk of her hair. I probably didn't need so much, but I was now in a hurry. There was only one more thing I had to do, however... I pulled her collar away from her neck, and sure enough, there was a voice adapter. And there was no pulse._

The species was difficult to approach. In fact, their whole planet was hard to approach. It was even harder to find the damn place.

Hagan knew where it was, however. Something in his visions had told him where it was. He knew nothing of the species he would soon encounter, however he had seen the tall, elegant images in his dreams and believed them to be birdlike, or sea-creatures. It was difficult to tell.

His starfighter popped out of hyperspace and he gazed down on the blue-white planet. He smiled smugly and sent the fighter down into the atmosphere of the stormy world. Violent winds buffeted the small spacecraft and Hagan used the Force to help level himself out as the gravity compensators were almost useless in this static-charged atmosphere.

Peering out from the cockpit's windows which were slowly fogging up as the shields were battered down on his fighter by the relentless sheets of rain and strong winds, Hagan's eyes settled on a few fuzzy dome-like buildings. Raised up from the stormy seas on strong stilts, they seemed to float in a dark sea of space, white foam frothed like little stars on the blanket of blue, and the dome buildings shimmered in the rain like unworldly UFOs.

Setting the starfighter down on one of the exposed landing platforms, Hagan waited until his fighter had powered down. He gave a small sigh. Here he was. At the beginning.

"Well, Revan... time to roll," Hagan murmured and took the small metal case which contained all that remained of the Dark Lady. A handful of her long, black hair.

The Kaminoans would do wonders to bring her back.

"You understand we will have to make multiple clones," the tall Kaminoan said to Hagan as it stood behind the tall, ornate desk that held the papers that would bring Revan into existence, "just in case one dies, we have a few backups."

"Of course," Hagan replied, raking a hand through his dark brown hair, "I'll leave everything to you. When will she be ready?"

"She?" the Kaminoan's lips twitched in an almost human-like smile, "They will be ready in two years, however if you wish us to raise them, we will do so."

"How many clones are we talking here?" Hagan asked, leaning forward on the desk. The Kaminoans helped with many species' needs and did not think anything of his odd skin color or the evil hues of his eyes. They were so far removed from the rest of the galaxy that they did not even know who Revan or even the mandalorians were.

"About five or six," the kaminoan's yellow eyes flickered from the papers to Hagan's red-yellow eyes. "Is that satisfactory?"

"Yes, that's fine," Hagan replied.

"Do you wish to raise them yourself?"

"Give me a call when they're ready and I will select one. I'd like it if you could take care of the others until I return."

The kaminoan bowed its head. "Thank you for your business, sir."

"No," Hagan smiled, showing his teeth, "Thank_ you_."

_I could not have sensed so far into the future, but what happened in the next five years almost ruined everything. Revan returned, but not as she had been. She had returned from the dead, as a Jedi and had saved the galaxy from Darth Malak. I was grateful that he was finally dead, but I had a bigger problem now – Revan. _

_Then a wonderful thing happened. Revan once again disappeared. She never even suspected I was alive and about to do what I was going to do..._

_My charge was now six years old. Already strong in the dark side and unmatched in Force prowess, she was becoming stronger each day. Her five clone sisters were still on Kamino as I had seen so much promise in her that I had not needed to return. If she died, I had five chances to start again. _

_Her clone name was Revan-01. The name I gave her was Alegra._

**The Five Revans.**

They were connected through the Force – something they did not know the name of, but knew its abilities. They were bound neither by darkness or light, but already knew of the concepts. Fifteen standard years old, it had taken them a lifetime to reach this level of Force-control – control so powerful that they could combine their minds into one and work together as one being.

Revan-02, Revan-03, Revan-04, Revan-05, and Revan-06 became one being. Revan.

Tun Swee moved through the clones' quarters, locking each door by reaching inside and tapping a switch. The switch's sensors only reacted to the special DNA implant that each and every Kaminoan was given at birth. No other species had the implant, so it was an easy and safe security measure – one that would eventually fall out of use due to the ease of which one could acquire the chemical used in the implant and simply smear it on their fingers.

Tun was of the lowest caste in the Kaminoans' system. His eyes were a light blue which forced him to do manual labor and other similar tasks. There was no need for kaminoan security guards, but he was probably the closest that would come to that title. The clones never rebelled, so why should security ever be an issue? The clones had never known anything different from the white walls of the labs, so why should they want out?

Unbeknown to Tun Swee, five clones with considerable force-potential had sensed through the walls, into the minds of rare visitors, through the oceans, and as far as they could reach through space... which so far, was only a dwarf satellite galaxy called the Rishi Maze – where Kamino was located. They wanted out.

Tun Swee opened the door to Operation Revan. He peered into the dark interior at the five slender human girls that sat on one bunk. Their eyes were closed, each hand in another girl's hand, their legs folded up underneath them. Tun widened the door so he could come in, "Revans?" he asked, curious to their behavior – perhaps this was an unusual custom humans had. Surely the higher caste individuals would be interested in studying this particular group more closely...

Their eyes flashed open, black as the deepest depths of the oceans. Before Tun could step back, their fingers unclasped and their hands all stretched out to him. Their legs unfolded beneath them and they stood as one. Tun reached out for the switch to lock them in, but they were too fast.

Their outstretched hands turned into clenched fists. Tun didn't even feel all his bones crack in every possible way. His long neck was the first to be broken.

On the planet of Dantooine, the Jedi Enclave was bursting with young padawans with great Force potential. Under the leadership of Jedi Masters Bastila Shan and Mical, the Enclave had been a whirlpool of action in the past fifteen years as jedi that survived the Jedi Civil War returned and claimed new padawans. All this rapid activity had somehow blinded many of the Jedi as to what was brewing on their quiet little planet.

Far to the east of the enclave were the decimated remains of a Rakatan Temple, destroyed by Malak about fourteen years earlier, just prior to his death. Unbeknown to everyone, the temple was not completely destroyed. Far below the surface of the planet were the innermost chambers of the Temple. Using the Force, one lone man and his adopted daughter had created a hospitable home and training ground for themselves.

Hagan had left Alegra there for the day as he went to the capital of Khoonda to check his mail. This was something he did yearly as he rarely had mail. Mostly it was a years worth accumulation of junk mail and commercial papers. But this time, he sensed, it would be something different. Something different excited him. And knowing that something different excited him was just sad.

To fit in around Khoonda, Hagan had acquired a set of blue contact lenses to cover the yellow-red colors of his eyes. There wasn't much he could do about his pale grey skin, but using a little makeup to make his eyelids and nose pink he managed to get away with the look of an ill man. He wore civilians' clothing and within the folds of his tunic, his lightsaber waited to be ignited for a merciless act of the dark side.

To keep up his act of the sick man, Hagan used a walking stick to hobble into the Communications Hub. Inside was a cafe with several private comm booths which could neither be eavesdropped into or recorded.

Paying for the usage of one such booth at the front counter, Hagan shuffled into the cozy interior and put down his walking stick as he searched through his holomail on the console that was built into the table. Holos appeared over the projector in the centre of the table.

There were a few message alerts that he was the one millionth user to sign in and he had a reward waiting if he accessed a link, one advertising a blba-wood scented body wash, several more referring to a bank account that he had long since stopped using, about nine from a fake address on Korriban, and finally, one from Kamino. He opened it.

The image of a tall Kaminoan with gray eyes and a tall head crest appeared. This was the kaminoan that had helped Hagan fill in the cloning agreement papers. His sing-song voice spoke out from the speakers built into the seats, vibrating the booth violently. Hagan lowered the volume.

"_Mr. Hagan,"_ the kaminoan started, _"With my regrets, I have left this message to inform you that your five remaining clones have disappeared. I have enclosed the bank details needed to consolidate our worker's policy as Operation Revan killed seven of our employees. They stole a trader's vessel and jumped to hyperspace before we could get a lock on them."_

Hagan switched off the console, smashing a fist onto the tabletop. _Firefek!_

He activated his comm and switched to a secure channel, "Alegra, pack up. We've got to leave."

The dark jedi had figured that it was going to be sooner or later that the five clones appeared on some planet or another and wrecked havoc – especially with their exact DNA match to the former dark lady Revan.


	2. Chapter 1

_20 years after the Redemption of Revan – the Prodigal Knight. _

_20 years after the Rebirth of the Revans – the six._

_5 years after the Escape of the Revans – the five._

_Amount of years passed since the Battle of the Starforge - 20_

_**Revan-04 – Ethyl.**_

The foul tangy smell of glitterstim and multiple other drugs wafted around the former warehouse-turned-nightclub. Deep within the bowels of Coruscant's metropolis sprawl, a lone woman meandered her way through the throngs of aliens and partygoers frequenting the joint. Her hood was pulled down low over her face, obscuring any view of her eyes. Her red lips were drawn into a focused frown and her cloak billowed behind her like the dark wings of some bird of prey.

Dangerous-looking, she didn't fail to disappoint the male onlookers. With a lithe and athletic body build, she could pass as a dancer in the nightclub if she were wearing less clothes. Her long legs were clad in tight combat trousers which bore a black sheen to them. A close-fitting vest showed off her shapely figure while her toned upper arms were bare. Skin-tight fingerless gloves fit snugly up to over her elbows. A gun holster was strapped to her upper arm and similar knife sheaths were tightened to either of her calves.

**Music pumped throughout the nightclub, making liquids shiver within wineglasses and bottles. The dim lighting had a violet tinge to it and the occasional spotlight would drift over the large mass of partygoers. Glasses clinked, alcohol was spilled, people whirled in dance, and others sat at tables drinking and playing pazaak.**

This woman had a mission. She was a bounty hunter – one of the best but unknown by most of the galaxy. No one had ever seen her face on a mission, only the red lips which showed no emotion.

Her eyes were not visible, but she didn't need them to find the person she was looking for. The Force was wrapped tightly around him, but it was enough for Ethyl to sense through the teeming mob of dancers. The man was in his mid-forties, had served in both the Mandalorian and Jedi Civil wars, and was a brilliant pazaak player.

Ethyl let her physical eyes lift. A deep cobalt blue, they were soon once again hidden by thick lashes and the dark hood of the cloak. She sifted her way through the crush of humanity and other races until she was standing near her target.

The forty-something-year-old sat slouched comfortably next to a twi'lek girl and opposite a few rival pazaak players, two of which were of the Nikto species, the last an Aqualish. The twi'lek girl soon ran off to dance with some younger fellow and the pazaak champ was left with the other players.

Ethyl kept her mind focused on the lone human as she ordered herself a juma and sat at the bar. The alcohol did not affect her senses as it did with most beings and she soon noticed that it neither influenced the pazaak player's intellect or awareness. It wasn't pure luck that he had built up a remarkable resistance to booze, rather he was trained in the Force and such minor physical distractions no longer bothered him.

Taking a sip of her juma, she kept her eyes downcast on a brochure advertising vistas in the upper levels of Coruscant's skyscrapers which many of the people here would never be able to afford. A tingle at the back of her neck forced her to extend her observation from the middle-aged pazaak player to his younger companions.

The aqualish was getting angry, believing the champ to have cheated in the game. The two Niktos – previously strangers to the enraged aqualish – were backing the alien up, also having no doubt that the older fellow was a crook.

Ethyl had never known the aqualish or huttese languages that the aliens used, but she could sense the base raw emotions that emmitted from their angry foreign words. She finished her juma and turned slightly on her barstool. Physical eyes did not reveal the miniature but deadly blaster hidden in the Aqualish's left breast pocket, nor the vibroknife on the back of the larger nikto's belt, but their thoughts gave them away. They did not even know that Ethyl had entered their minds and absorbed all the information she needed for their next move.

The pazaak player was alert as he saw the gun and knife come into the aliens' fingers. He was in no position to fight back, slouched as he was, but he was fit and spry. His hands slammed down on the rounded table in front of him, the opposite side of the table striking up into the Aqualish's meaty jaw. With a slushy cry, the alien slid back onto his chair, head slumping backwards in an awkward position.

The niktos with the knife leapt up on the table, refraining his opponent from using the same technique to finish him and his buddy off. The unarmed niktos leapt at the pazaak player, his horn-covered, leathery hands reaching for his target's throat.

Rolling to the side, the pazaak player rolled under the table. Using his momentum, he rolled into the table's leg and toppled the knife-weilding niktos off onto the floor. The niktos landed on his back, the knife sliding from his grasp. His attacker body-slammed his chest, forcing the air from the nikto's lungs or whatever organ niktos had for such a purpose.

The smaller nikto grabbed up the knife and attempted to stab the pazaak player in the back, but suddenly the human rolled to the side, the stabbing resulting in the nikto killing the other. Stunned, but not shaken, the remaining nikto pulled free the knife from his companion's body and held it in a more comfortable position as he strided purposefully towards his enemy who had now stumbled to his feet.

Ethyl sensed that the niktos was also preparing another nasty surprise as he moved towards his antagonist. One scaly hand was holding the knife out in front of him while the other was behind his back, preparing the gun he had picked up from the stunned Aqualish. About to flick off the safety on the blaster, he spread his emotionless lips to show off his sharpened yellow teeth in what resembled a snarl.

The pazaak player did not know what was about to happen. Time to move.

The nikto's finger slipped back, pulling the trigger. He screamed in pain as he had shot the back of his own calf. He didn't know why he had shot himself. He didn't even understand how that was possible as he hadn't yet turned the safety off.

Surprised, the pazaak player's eyes widened as he glanced around. He finally realized someone was here who could use the Force against him – he didn't realize she had just helped him. Ethyl's back was turned once more as her crimson lips smirked into a little smile. She was in his head however hard he tried to keep her out. But she had to admit that his method was noteworthy in being really distracting and annoying.

_Oh damn it! Uh... switch the totals to nine-ten, the totals are nine-twenty... no what am I thinking!... Route 0934, Sector Twelve. Route 0935, Sector Twelve. Route 0936, Sector Twelve. Route 0937, Sector Tw-_

Atton Rand's thoughts went on as he ran from the nightclub. Unbeknown to him, his repetitive thoughts were like a brilliant beacon for Ethyl as he disappeared into the blur of life in the streets of Coruscant.

As the partygoers stared at the carnage the pazaak champion had left behind the last nikto stumbled around, cursing and trying to turn to inspect the damage he had caused himself with the blast he put through his muscle. Many watched his opponent's hasty escape – leaving his cred chips and winnings behind – but no one noticed a cloaked figure step out after him.

To the partygoers, Ethyl – Revan-04 – had never existed.

Atton closed his eyes as he merged into the crowd. It wasn't usually his practice to do this to disappear, but it helped him to feel more in control as he used only the Force to navigate his way through the crowd. He could disappear again. It was what he was good at.

Running away. It was so easy.

His mind was still reciting hyperspace routes but he tried not to think about that. It would give anyone who was using the Force to search for him an easy doorway in... if they were good enough. If it was another sith, he didn't want to tangle with them as he tended not to like big public Force-fights... they scared people and it was hard to disappear again.

He mosied down an alleyway, knowing his image was lost in the shadows. Opening his eyes, he let his back slam against a concrete wall to slide down it.

He put his head in his hands, rocking slightly. Sweat poured down his face in torrents. Who was he kidding? He was getting too old for this life of running and disappearing. He had been doing it since he was a child and he was a natural at it, but for once he wanted control. He wanted stability. He wanted to know that he was the boss of his life and _unknown forces_ couldn't do anything to change that.

Smoke and exhaust from factories nearby poured into the alleyway, making breathing difficult and the air foggy. Vision was restricted to about ten feet. This restriction piqued Atton's interest and he glanced further into the murky shadows of the alleyway.

A dusty blast of warm air blew on his face, the smoke parting before him to allow the shadow of a hooded figure, backlit by dim lights reflected from some other passage in the alley which had traffic. Hot blood pumped through Atton's neck, heating his forehead. His throat became dry and he waited for the smoke to clear so he could take another look at the spooky image.

The smoke cleared and no one was there. Atton ran.

Atton didn't know why he was running. If bounty hunters were after him for whatever unlawful thing he had done in his past, he could take them. But what about the hooded figure had frightened him so much? _Why?_

He ran to a turbolift and punched the _up_ button. He slid inside as soon as the doors opened and was relieved to find nobody else in there. A light-headed feeling came over him as the lift rocketed up the stories. Waiting to ascend to the two hundred and sixty-seventh level, he closed his eyes once more and used the Force to try and find his pursuer.

His Forcepowers in the area of searching for a single person among millions was not noteworthy. With all his time he and the Exile spent training, he had never figured out how Mira managed to master such a thing. There were too many personalities, too many thoughts, desires, and emotions.

He hadn't found any match for the shadow he saw in the alleyway, not even having seen their face or sensed their intentions. Opening his eyes, he wondered why he had been so scared. He had a lightsaber, he knew how to fight with his hands if need be...

Resting against the side of the turbolift, he stared up into the dim neon light which lit the compartment. He still had seventy-two floors to go.

Suddenly, the 'lift shuddered and his eyes widened as he reached out to balance himself on the metal wall. A consistent thumping sound started battering the ceiling, the neon light smashing inwards as it scattered glass fragments on the floor and the elevator space flickered into a wicked and chilling gloom.

Atton fumbled in his coat, searching for his lightsaber. Someone with incredibly tough bones had leapt on top of the elevator and had pummeled the metal in enough to smash the light. Whoever they were, they were after him.

With a snap-hiss, the green blade of his lightsaber sprung from the handle and speared through the shadows to illuminate the four walls of the compartment. Atton looked up at the maimed ceiling with growing uneasiness. Silence reigned, telling him that his new attacker had cut the lift's power.

Wires sparked in the ceiling, forcing Atton to take a few timid steps back into the corner to avoid getting electrocuted. His lightsaber was held out before him, both hands gripping the hilt, his knuckles dead-white. Licking his lips nervously, Atton glanced at the doors to his left, wondering how far away the next floor would be.

Waiting for a full thirty seconds, Atton stepped from the corner and to the doors, splitting them apart with the Force. Faced with a grey and slimy wall, he leaned over to get a good look at how far down the next level was.

Cold fingers grasped the back of his neck, holding the top of his spine with a vice-like grip. He knew that he wouldn't be able to move his lightsaber to fight off this person... they would already have twisted his spinal cord, effectively shutting down his brain right at the root. Cautiously, he snapped off his lightsaber and raised his hands. The lightsaber was quickly snatched from his grasp.

"What do you want?" he asked as they dropped down into the compartment, slipping over his head with an athelete's grace.

They patted him down, then pulled off his vest in case any weapons were concealed within the folds. The whole process was awkward so Atton couldn't reach back or smack the person. He tried turning his head to the side to take a look, but was slapped back to stare at the slimy wall.

"You are Atton Rand," her voice was strong, yet as quiet as the wind whispering through a dew-covered meadow. What she said was not a question – it was a statement.

"Do I look like him?" Atton said, hoping to bluff, although he already recognized that she knew who he was, making his bluff a stupid thing to do as there was no reason to bluff. He wrinkled his nose.

No response was forthcoming. Her strong yet slender fingers brought his hands back behind him and cuffed them together. "I'm sorry for the manner I have to treat you in, but you won't come peacefully," she said.

Atton snorted quietly. She knew that much, so she pretty much had his entire life.

"So, uh, how are you planning to get us down?" he asked casually, trying to turn again. He felt a little curious as to why the slender-fingered woman was going to so much trouble to take him without harm. Bounty hunters didn't usually feel too much remorse about breaking a few bones before bringing their trash to their employer.

Which meant she wasn't taking him for a bounty. If she were a sith, would she have done this? No, in his experience, Sith did not act politely. They were partial to a bit of bone-breaking and muscle-exploding themselves.

The woman didn't respond right away, she seemed to be waiting. Suddenly, the lift jerked as a muffled _bang_ occurred on the roof.

_Oh no, please don't tell me you're... Atton's thoughts were cut away as the turbolift plummeted. The woman knew what she was doing and suddenly threw Atton through the open doors against the grey, slimey wall, her body crushed against his back. Two knives landed either side of Atton's shoulders and into the wall, the woman's firm grasp upon them._

Heart hammering, Atton stared at the razor sharp knife to his left so close that he could almost touch it with his tongue. Barely aware of anything but the fear and adrenaline rocketing through his veins, he glanced around, then started struggling. For his trouble, the woman gave him a head-butt in the back of his neck.

"Cut it out," she murmured as she loosened the grip on one knife and wrapped that arm around Atton's chest, the knife still clutched in her fingers. Tugging slightly on the remaining knife, they slowly started to slide down the wall. The knife screeched in protest against the hard wall made out of some sort of stone. Atton knew the knife was a vibroknife due to its ability to cut through rock, even with considerable difficulty.

They soon came to the lower level doors and the woman brought them to an abrupt halt. "Don't struggle, or you will fall," she said quietly.

Atton looked down and knew he didn't want to make any trouble. He watched as the woman's strong fingers clasped the knife which she slid between the two turbolift doors, prying them open. She held the knife against Atton's throat as they came out, onlookers' eyes wide as saucers.

"Make a move and I kill him," a dangerous tone was in her voice. Atton wondered if she were serious. He was bullied over to a waiting speeder and pushed inside, his cuffed hands making his effort to sit up straight almost impossible. With his head on the seat and the rest of his body in the leg-space of the speeder, he couldn't see the woman as she jumped in the speeder. The turbo-engine started and they were off.

Atton struggled to turn his head but couldn't see the woman's features. Only crimson red lips. He coughed and tried to pull himself up onto the seat, "Where are you taking me?"

"I don't know yet, just somewhere safer than here," her answer surprised him.

"Why are-?" Atton cut off his question as he thought furiously, "What the hell do you want from me!"

"Information," the woman said, throwing a glance over her shoulder as she merged in with the late-night traffic.

Atton finally pulled himself up into the seat, "So you aren't a bounty hunter?"

"I am," she responded, "but I'm not looking for the bounty on your head. What's inside your head is of more relevance to me."

He felt confused, angry, and just a little tired. He had planned to go to bed as soon as he got away from that lousy pazaak den. "So you're going to torture me, huh?" he huffed.

Her hooded head shook, "Not unless I have to, but I want your help."

Blinking, he looked at her, "I don't help people who don't give me their identities."

The crimson lips smiled, "You did with Revan."

"Well," he snapped, "that was a long time ago and I've changed... she changed too."

"My name is Ethyl," she murmured, "I know that won't tell you much, but at least you have a name to put to my face."

"I can't even see your damn face!"

"Shush," Ethyl pressed his head down as if to hide him from the incoming traffic, "list off hyperspace routes."

Atton did so, even if it was an odd request. She somehow knew him well enough to know that was what he did when he was in danger... how was he in danger?

He glanced to his side to see Ethyl, but her face was still shadowed, "What's happening?" he asked.

"I can't tell you until we are in a safe place," she replied.

"There are plenty of safe places around here, why can't you just drop in an alleyway or something?"

"He will find us with the Force. I need to blind him," she said cryptically.

Atton sighed. Whoever this woman was, she was scared of this fellow. Atton was pretty scared of this woman, so that meant this guy had to be _very_ scary. _A sith? Something worse?_

Dawn was starting to creep over the skyscrapers' peaks by the time Ethyl finally put the speeder into a dive for a landing. Fingers of light stabbed their way between the ongoing traffic and multiple buildings as the speeder went deeper into the slums. Atton had continuously repeated hyperspace routes over and over in his head for the past few hours, his captor not speaking to him.

He looked at Ethyl, his neck aching from being in the same tense position for so long. Ethyl's flawless skin and emotionless crimson lips gave away none of what she thought. Atton knew it was pointless to try and get inside her head. Even if the Exile had managed to train him fully in mind-invasion techniques, he would never have been able to get inside the solid mesh of black nothingness that sheilded her mind.

The speeder came to a smooth stop and Ethyl jumped out of the speeder, taking Atton's lightsaber from under her cloak. She swiftly moved around the speeder to haul Atton out and marched him across a broken and charred landing platform, once used for troop carriers almost thirty years ago.

Colossal, the Jedi Temple stood before them. Atton found himself staring as Ethyl urged him forward. His lips moved, his brain trying to find the words to match them.

They trotted up the stairs at Ethyl's fast pace, Atton having trouble trying to keep up, even with her steady hand between his shoulders as she pretty much pushed him up. Metal sculptures of ancient jedi stood solemnly at the temple's entrance, guarding the reinforced and graffiti-covered columns.

Ethyl let go of Atton and stepped forward, gazing up at the huge double-doors that they would have to pass through to enter. Atton sighed and sat down on the top stair, his hands still bound behind his back. He should have gone to Nar Shaddaa – he could have gotten truly lost there.

But who was he trying to get lost from? He knew the answer wasn't found in other people. He wanted to lose himself and just forget about what he had failed to do and what he had done. All his mistakes and choices haunted him and sometimes it was nice to try and get lost in a world that wasn't his own.

His reality-orientated world consisted of pazzaak, hyperspace routes, and dark alleyways. Why did he go to worlds that had all of those?

Ethyl stepped down behind him and undid the flexi-cuffs. "Come," she said, "I need your help."

Back to the real world. He stood and turned, rubbing his wrists. Ethyl motioned him over to the doors, "A master has locked this place to all but Force-sensitive beings. The door won't open to anything short of a MM-40 Thermal Charge," she said.

"So, how can I help you then?" he asked, his brows furrowing.

"Backdoor," she said, "you've been here before."

It was true. He'd been here twice, to be exact. Once during the Jedi Civil War, and once after the Exile had entered the Unknown Regions. His blood boiled at the thought that this woman knew so much about him, yet he had hidden so much in his mind and there was no possible way that she could have seen him do all the things he did.

"Mira?" he ventured a guess out-loud. She didn't have her Force-aura, but it was possible she could have changed. The Dark Side and drugs were always a possibility. Glitterstim really mucked up the Force-IDs.

"I told you my name is Ethyl," she said, almost gently as if talking to a child. The lack of eye-contact created a black hole as to what she was thinking. "I know of your exploits from a very reliable source."

Atton swung a stiff and straight hand, one leg bending for balance and the other sweeping out behind Ethyl to knock her to the ground. His hand connected with her neck, rendering her breathless, but instead of falling with the impact to her legs, she jumped. Her booted feet crashed down on Atton's leg and he cried out in pain as there was a _click! _sound. He was still looking for a way to win the fight.

He reached up and dove a rock-solid fist into her stomach. She grunted and grabbed his wrist. Adrenaline rushed through Atton's veins and he rammed his elbow into the muscle cluster between the torso and upper leg. Ethyl yelped as her teeth clenched in a hissing wince.

Atton kicked up with his free, uninjured leg. Ethyl was thrown back onto the cold stone floor, holding her bruised chest. Atton flipped to his feet, keeping his weight off the maimed leg. His body formed into an aggressive Echani combat stance.

Ethyl slowly stood up. "Once we get inside, I can tell you everything," she said. Her voice was pained, but her body showed nothing of the punishment it had been dealt.

"I'm not letting you near me," he growled.

The lips smirked, "Are you afraid of me?"

"No," he stated, his own lips curling into a snarl, "I just want to know what's going on, and you aren't telling me anything."

Ethyl sighed, turning away for a moment. Her cloak billowed around her as the wind scampered over the temple's exterior.

"There is no backdoor," Atton said, hoping that information would be enough to make her let him go, although he doubted it. What was holding him there anyway? The cuffs were gone.

Ethyl turned back, "I know," she said, "It would seem I have to earn your trust now."

He sighed, glancing up at the sky in exasperation. "You're almost like that old witch."

"I won't spook you by saying her name," Ethyl said.

Atton straightened up, "Give me my lightsaber back if you want even a tiny percentage of my trust."

She inclined her head, acknowledging that she would play his game. She tossed the lightsaber to him and he caught it deftly, making sure the blade end was away from him. "And what now?" he asked.

Ethyl looked up at the giant doors, "If I open these, my Forcepowers will be depleted. Physically, I will be weakened. I was going to ask you to do this, but obviously that isn't going to happen," she smiled, almost warmly.

Atton shuffled over to the doors, his bad leg dragging a bit. Touching the wall, he sensed for the truth. What Ethyl had told him would most likely be authentic as he had already heard of strong Force-locks and what they did to the _key_'s strength and willpower. He had opened one himself a few years ago.

"Alright," he said, "you do know that you could faint, right?"

She smiled again, "Yes, ironic, isn't it?"

"What's ironic?"

"That I try to gain your trust by doing this, I faint, then you get the opportunity to run off while I'm unconcious," she leaned against the door, crossing her arms. "... and then you go and get yourself killed and I end up dead," she shrugged, "Ironic."

Atton fingered the lightsaber's hilt, nervously. He was too curious, that was his problem. That's why he was staying. "What room do you want to go to?" he asked.

"The Room of a Thousand Fountains," she replied.

He nodded, "Well... do your thing."

Ethyl placed her hands on both of the doors. Atton felt the Force swirl around them like a violent flurry of different cultures, worlds, emotions, and suddenly, he realized that with her using the Force the way she was, she had opened up her own world to him. Whether it was accidental or not, he didn't know.

Feeling curious, yet respecting her privacy, he averted his senses so he wouldn't read her past. She said she would explain it all later. He would just have to trust her on that. This could be his only opportunity otherwise, but he couldn't abide the thought of someone going into _his_ thoughts without him knowing.

A dull click was heard from within the strong metal doors. Ethyl stumbled back as they swung open. Atton caught her shoulder and hauled her up, thankful she was still concious. As long as she held the doors open, they had enough time to get inside.

Pushing her before him, Atton entered the Jedi Temple. The doors fell shut once more as Ethyl fell limp and passed out.

Stumbling for a moment, his bad leg and the weight of Ethyl's lithe body slowing him down, Atton had some trouble finding his way through the dark corridors to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. What hit him as he entered was the silence. The only sound was the burbling of one single fountain somewhere in the back of the room.

Spread in a wide circle was a giant pond, fountains delicately positioned in an array specifically purposed to be a soothing display of water. The fountains had fallen silent many years ago, but that wasn't the silence. The silence was the Force.

Atton was used to a sort of 'buzz' that hummed through his mind continuously. Whatever planet he was on, he had felt it. It was the buzz of life, emotions, turmoils... but here, there was nothing.

The rising sun through the sky-light tainted the still waters a vibrant orangey-pink and Atton rested Ethyl down on a stone bench. The gardens had died and withered away, a few skeletons of trees bending over to snooze on the metal and stone pathways, never to awaken.

Atton limped over to the pond and cupping his hands, he drew water to his lips and took a long drink. His mouth was dry from all the excitement during the late night and early morning.

He glanced back at Ethyl, her hood still over her face. Surely he could at least find out what she looked like. Judging by her skin, she had to be quite a young woman, but by the slight lingering residue of her memories, he knew that her eyes would tell a story of a life much longer and painful than she should have had. Gingerly, his fingertips brushed the hood backwards. What he saw took his breath away and he forgot to take another in.

Long black hair, flawless white skin, lucious black eyelashes, and a slightly pixie-ish face gave Ethyl a beauty unfound among most women, giving her both extremes of _cute_ and _beautiful_, and also, somehow a little dangerous. It was the tilt of her left eyebrow which gave her that, Atton thought.

But what had caught him was who she was. Her blue eyes blinked open, alarmed at his prescence. He took a few stumbling steps backwards. It couldn't be... how could it be if it was?

"You're-..." he stammered, tripping. He ended up with his back against the rim of the pond.

Ethyl sat up, her eyes sparkling almost violet with the reflections from the red-tinged water. Her hood fell loosely at the nape of her neck. "Atton, I can explain."

He could feel himself going hysterical, "You're Revan! Why-? Huh?" he blinked then held his hands to his head, "I'm drunk."

Ethyl dropped to her knees from the bench so she was at his eye-level, "I am not Revan."

"I don't know what to think," he said. Revan had been gone for over twenty years, it just didn't make sense that she hadn't aged.

Hardly anybody had seen Revan's face when she was the Heroine of the Mandalorian Wars or when she was Dark Lady of the Sith, but all had been revealed when she had been on the holonews broadcast as the Prodigal Knight. She hadn't looked much more different than Ethyl did now.

"Atton, listen to me," she held his eyes with her commanding gaze. "You're going to save many people if you will help me."

He felt like collapsing, but he was already collapsed. He had been one of the only ones to know Revan's true identity at the very start of the Jedi Civil War, before Malak turned on Revan.

His world was colliding into the side of his head again.

"Who are you then?" he asked, weakly.

The last time he had spoken with Revan, she had ordered him to break a Jedi woman. That woman had opened his eyes up to what he was really doing and what Revan would do to him in the end. As he had run away from all he knew, his fear of Revan had grown until it was overwhelming. He had acted with indifference whenever her name was mentioned, but inside his boots he was quaking. What had at first been a bad dream had grown until it was a horror-filled nightmare threatening to spill over into his ordinary daytime regimes.

Ethyl looked tired, but she was going to help him understand anyway, "I'm Ethyl, the fourth out of a group of clones."

He stared at her. It wasn't possible. Cloning sentient beings was all but impossible to even the most highly-trained Republic doctors and cloning experts. Plants and animals had been cloned, but most didn't last very long in life.

"Did the Sith-...?"

"No," she shook her head. "Not the Sith. Just a harmless alien race in the Unknown Regions... Rishi Maze, if you've ever heard of it."

Atton shook his head. "Why?" he asked. None of it fit the picture. Why make clones of Revan?

"An apprentice for a Sith," she responded. "The remaining four of us were back-ups."

"How many of you were there?" Atton asked, not sure if he was speaking to a real person or not. Were clones real people? It was hard to understand.

"There were six of us," she said, her face hardening. "One was chosen, the remaining five – including me – escaped the cloning facility and stole a trader's vessel. Over the years, this... Sith, has hunted us. We split up and forged new identities for ourselves to decrease the risk of getting caught. But... well," she paused and glanced at the ground. "The third of us, Mirzelle... last year, he found her and tried to kill her, but didn't succeed. Three weeks ago, she suspected that a weapon he had used on her was poisioned and warned us all to stay away. Three days ago we felt her death and knew it was time to find the _real_ Revan."

"Why?" Atton asked, confused. "What could she do?"

"This Sith was her closest advisor," Ethyl said. "His name is-"

"Hagan Juul."

Suprise finally registered on her face, "You knew him?"

"We didn't get along," Atton murmured, thinking back. "You obviously know enough about me to know I was a sith assassin and Jedi-breaker, so... yeah... he didn't like me very much. We got in a few fights with eachother."

"What stopped him from killing you?" she asked.

"I was the best," Atton looked down shamefully, "I was too valuable to kill."

Ethyl nodded and a silence stretched out, engulfing the waters and still fountains. The single fountain that remained in working condition uttered a few spluttery coughs and died down.

"Why are we here?" Atton asked.

"The silence," Ethyl responded. "A little hole in the Force... notice you can't sense much about me?"

He managed to crack a little smile and let out a sigh as he closed his eyes. "Why do you need me?" he finally asked.

"The Exile went to find Revan," Ethyl stated. "You went with her a little way before she told you to turn back. You know how to get where you last saw her... then we have to pick up the pieces and try to find where she went next."

Atton rubbed his face and looked at Ethyl, her youthful face and weary eyes making him feel pity for her. She was a creature that had been brought into existence on the greedy whim of some prig with a so-called 'good idea'. She was just as human as he was, but fate had dealt her an ugly hand. Atton remembered not getting along with his parents and he had felt he would spare any child the abuse he had gone through, but she didn't even _have_ parents... and he knew that he had been dealt a pretty ugly hand with his parents also. A bounty hunter and a whore wasn't exactly what he called a good match or lasting relationship.

"Where are the other clones?" he asked, "Why did _you_ come?"

"I was on Coruscant," Ethyl replied. "The others are on different planets, tending to other responsibilities... we have tried to fit in as much as we possibly can."

"How come you know so much about me? You can't possibly have Revan's memories too, can you?" he asked skeptically.

She shook her head, "No, cloning can't do that – not yet, anyhow. I've been following you for a little while, actually. Those rare moments when you relaxed, I looked into your past. I'm sorry for the intrusion, but it was necessary..." she trailed off as if lost in memories, then managed to regain her composure, "We didn't know if you were working for him or not."

He nodded, "I understand."

Suddenly, something occurred to him and he paused, thinking. "Ethyl, why did Hagan clone Revan? Surely you don't all possess the same traits as the original Revan... isn't that what he would be cloning for?"

She shook her head, "I know, it's stupid. I think he is managing to control the first clone to become more like Revan, but as far as traits go... the rest of us don't really fit the 'Revan criteria.'"

"You're mysterious enough," he joked as he straightened up in his position on the floor.

She shrugged, "I never met her, so I wouldn't know... I've heard she was very charasmatic and a real whiz with a hydrospanner, though. A great leader."

He nodded, "Yeah... will your uh... other clones... be joining us?"

She smiled, "Sisters. Eventually they will come."


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO – In Your Skin**

He walked into the office, smiling at some of his co-workers as he dumped his backpack on his desk. Approaching three other detectives gathered around the caf-machine, he clapped his hands together and grinned, "Suspicious call?" he asked. It was always exciting when a caller reported hearing gunfire in a non-suspicious area, or when his unique skills were required after a body was found and no one could identify it. His optimism in view of his grim job usually brought a little bit of sunshine to his co-workers' day, but sometimes his black humor got him in trouble.

Erv, a tall and muscular human male, was of about sixteen standard years of age. His broad build belonged to that of a supreme athelete, while his handsome face and chiseled features should have been advertised on some romance/drama holovid. He looked years older than his age.

Running a hand through his dark blonde hair, his striking green eyes focused on the senior detective, Juss, an aging Bothan male with a wispy white mane. The Bothan shook his head, "One of the sector patrols came across something floating out in the atmosphere."

Erv grinned and poured himself a caf, wriggling his eyebrows flirtaciously at a passing twi'lek, Ambah, the forensic analyst. She ignored him, but her head-tails flicked in agitation. Turning back to face his boss, Erv gave a slight frown, "We don't usually get pulled into atmospheric murders and stuff, do we?"

"Well, this one is different," Juss murmured, motioning to Reedsen, a female Rodian detective, to give Erv a datapad.

Receiving it with a focused smile, Erv looked at the holo image in front of him. A small spacecraft floated in space, all systems dead. Through the opaque cockpit window, he could see a woman's form slumped in a chair. The rest of the image was grainy and he couldn't make out much more of the woman's surroundings. "Don't s'pose you got an ID for her?" he asked.

Reedsen shook her head. Unlike other Rodians, she took the trouble to speak Basic, giving her voice the odd sound that comes when a human presses their nostrils closed as they speak. "That's why we want you. Boarding parties haven't been able to breach the hull of her vessel and aren't sure if she's dead or alive, although we're pretty sure she's dead as all the oxygen systems have been turned off."

"Turned off?" Erv echoed. "Think it was a suicide?"

"That's something we can't be sure of until you take a look," Juss said.

The small shuttle rose out of the atmosphere, the force of the friction shimmering on the exterior shields. A chunky little ship, it didn't go very fast, but one could be very delicate on the contols to easily turn it into gaps that other space vessels' captains could only dream of squeezing through. Orginally built for the Mandalorian Wars as an assault team carrier, the X2-Phanthom had hardly been commissioned before the war came to an abrupt end. How Coruscant's Orbital Homocide Detective Agency (COHDA) got hold of one, Erv didn't know.

He stood in the cockpit, looming over the pilot who seemed to find his presence un-nerving. Juss had accompanied him onboard as the only other ground-based detective. Erv knew that Juss wasn't along for the mission, but rather to keep him in line. It made Erv smile that the elderly Bothan still thought he had to babysit him. Mind you, he was still a little young to be wandering around in space with some people he didn't know. His mind was mature enough to be an adult's, but there was no convincing actual adults that he could take care of himself and understand everything that everyone said to him.

"There it is," the pilot muttered. He reached over and hit the comm-button, "Casten, get up here."

The derelict spacecraft was floating before them as if suspended on an invisible string from the heavens. Stars dotted around it on each side, but gave no illumination as to what had caused it to become that way. A freighter belonging to Coruscant Orbital Security was nearby, having tried several times to put a boarding party on the little spacecraft.

Casten, an experienced detective, most likely in his late fifties, pretty much skipped into the cockpit, skidding to a stop next to Erv. He stared out at the derelict for a moment, then patted the pilot on the shoulder as he turned to the younger ground-based detective, his dark eyes roaming over Erv's youthful face. His sheriff's mustache twitched.

With a rugged appearance, Casten could have once been handsome. His face was crisscrossed from scars he had acquired during the Mandalorian Wars as a boy. His homeworld had been one of the first to have been hit by the blue-terrors, having resulted in giving him an artificial right arm.

"Right, boy," he said gruffly, "I'm interested to see you do your work."

Erv smiled, "I hope I can make sense of things here... if it's anything to do with ship controls or anything, I'm afraid I'll be useless."

Casten gave him a funny look. "I thought Jedi were meant to be quite mechanically-minded."

"He isn't a Jedi," Juss spoke up from his seat in the back of the cockpit, tucked away next to the navi-computer. "He has the Force, however. That's why he has this job at his age."

"I understand now," Casten nodded, brows furrowing. His mustache twitched again, "Well, son, get to work."

Erv took a seat next to the pilot and looked out across space to the derelict ship. His breathing was slow and accurate. Sound faded from his physical ears, all but for the steady beating of his heart. His eyes stopped seeing as a white mist drifted over them. He was sensing for the woman. A flicker of life if there was one.

The derelict ship was dead and so was she, but there was a beeping... Erv didn't let himself come out of the trance to see if it was something on the Detectives' shuttle. He shouldn't be able to hear it... time turned back. A blur of colors and motion passed before his eyes, and suddenly... he was in the cockpit of that tiny ship.

The woman was alive only four days ago. The Detectives had found the ship just two days ago. She was panicked, yet knew that something... something important to her was safe. She calmed herself, the Force swirling around her. She choked on something and started to cough.

Sight came to Erv from her eyes. She coughed into her hand and pulled it back to look at the blood splattered across her palm. Shuddering, she reached up with a clean hand to switch off something on the ship's ceiling which stopped the beeping. The little spacecraft's lights dimmed and she was left floating in the darkness of space. _He hasn't won... you have found me?_

Erv jolted, suddenly realizing she knew, there, in the past, that he was looking for her. It creeped him out, giving him the heebie-jeebies. Wishing to pull out, yet knowing it was his duty to hear what she had to say, he kept the connection.

_I don't know... but if you are the one I think you are, I know that you will do everything in your power to find out what has happened. I could tell you, but I would force you to lie to your superiors... and I can't be sure if you would do that for me._

She coughed more, blood spitting out onto her dark combat pants. She sniffled and wiped her face, more blood coming away on the back of her hand.

_I have been poisoned by a Sith Assassin's knife. It was a progressive poison, one I have never heard of. It took me almost a year before I realized my health was failing. Three weeks ago, it got the worst it had ever been and I warned... my sisters... to stay away for risk of infection._

_I have sealed myself in here with a Force-lock._

She vomited. Blood was now everywere. Erv forced himself to wait for her to speak more, although his own stomach threatened to spill its contents... no. He was not connected to his stomach. He would not throw up, he convinced himself.

_My name is Mirzelle. I wish not to be identified by your superiors or anyone else. If you do break the seal, a bomb will go off. It is triggered by use of the Force, so I will have to set it up after giving you this message._

Her bloodied hands shakily picked up an object with wires sticking out of it and a strange, glowing crystal imbedded within it. She started readjusting one of the wires as she gave the message.

_I want you to find Revan. If you find them, my sisters will do everything in their power to help you... Erv. That's your name... I'm sorry, this must be a little unnerving, but hear me out. A member of your family went to the Unknown Regions to find Revan... to aid her in some cause. Revan didn't know it, but she was going the wrong way when she went looking for whatever disturbance in the Force she felt. _

The message became more desperate as she felt her life draining. Her vision blurred with each beat of her heart.

_He's going to become the next Sith Lord... the Jedi Temple... go... to the Temple... 1100 hours... your today... hurry..._

Her vision blurred more and her fingers worked sluggishly as she prepared to arm the Force-triggered bomb. She looked up quickly at her console and back at the rest of her little ship, her fuzzy reflection stained on a bloodied metal bulkhead.

"Erv!" a light shone in his eyes. "Erv, come on, wake up, buddy!" the form of Juss loomed over him.

Blinking his eyes open, he blearily looked up at Juss who wore a relieved expression on his face, "What happened, Erv?" he demanded, instantly back-to-business.

"_I..." Erv trailed off as he suddenly realized that was the first time he had ever sensed into the thoughts of an individual in the past. And she had known that – three days in the future – he would be sensing for her. Mirzelle..._

_Suddenly, he wasn't sure what to say. "I..." he stammered, at a loss for words. Just act as if nothing happened... no, it won't work..._

Juss helped Erv to sit up from his lying position on the floor in between the two chairs. The pilot didn't look down as he was busy speaking space and coordinates gibberish into the comm-system to another ship in the area. Juss frowned, "Take it easy... I don't know what happened, but as soon as you closed your eyes and settled, the ship out there just blew up-"

_Erv leapt to his feet and stared out the viewscreen at the debris floating lazily by. Fragments of what had once been the woman's ship left to forever be forgotten and to join the unidentified junkpile that orbited Coruscant._

It had happened. It really had happened... and he had somehow broken the Force-seal. And according to Juss, all that he had sensed and seen had happened within a flash of a second, ending abruptly as the message ended and the bomb exploded.

"Did you get anything, Erv?" Juss pressed, "Anything at all?"

_His mind raced. What had really happened? He quickly looked at his wrist-chrono. 0900 hours... he had two hours to reach the surface and find the Jedi Temple. Why he needed to go there, he had no clue._

"She has no friends and no family," he quickly lied, feeling guilty yet knowing there had to be a good reason for why she had contacted him in such a peculiar manner. Suddenly his mind went blank.

He had seen her face... her face which had been the reflection on the once-shiny bulkhead in the back end of her cockpit... it was one he had memorized as a child, yet couldn't remember why he had obsessed about it.

It wasn't his long-lost mother... it didn't even look remotely like her. The pained blue eyes were not hers, and the black hair didn't suit the holos he had seen of her. It left only one option.

"Pilot, please, take us back down to the surface."

"Erv," Juss asked as the ship swerved deftly back towards Coruscant, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he replied, once again lying. "Just tired... can we go back to ground now?"

His world was being turned inside-out. He had just sensed the former Darth Revan in her dying moments... or had they been? He would have sensed a lot more scarring if it had really been her... hopefully the Temple would give some answers.

Atton and Ethyl spent some time in the Temple, healing Atton's crushed leg. He had never been good at healing and was starting to ponder if he was good at anything related with the Force at all.

Once, a long time ago, when he had asked the Exile about the limitations of his power, she had joked that why he had the Force was because he was lucky; he wasn't lucky because he had the Force. His powers were mainly limited to seeing things from another person's perspective, in truth 'stepping into their shoes'. He couldn't control a being, but could see everything they saw. He could see gaps in their logic while in battle and sometimes brilliant moments of rare genius. He could move objects with his mind and sometimes even manage to read another's thoughts, although those moments when he could were rare. (The Exile had said he didn't exactly tiptoe through one's conciousness. He was more like a clumsy rancor performing the mandalorian dance _Dha Werda Verda_ with one's mind as the dance floor, she had joked.)

_He had tried several times to do this to Ethyl while she was healing him, but there always came a firm but gentle nudge at his mind, telling him no._

Finally, Ethyl opened her eyes and unfolded her legs. She stood up, "Alright, take a walk around and tell me if that's better."

His joints creaking as he stood up, Atton took a few steps next to the pond then nodded his head, "Thanks, it's all good now."

She gave a polite nod, "Well, lets get on the move," she said as she took a quick glance around, then she paused, her mouth in a frown of concentration.

"What?" Atton asked.

"Just..." she narrowed her eyes at him, "I felt a disturbance in the Force."

Atton tried his best to reach out and sense for whatever it was that had caught her attention, but he never found what it was before Ethyl shook her head. She quickly strided towards the door. "Someone's coming here. We have to leave, now."

Atton raised an eyebrow and followed her through the halls and corridors as they made their way back to the entrance. Suddenly, Ethyl grabbed him and hauled him behind a pillar as the doors creaked open.

He stared in astonishment as a tall man wearing a black trench coat stepped in. The man turned his back to the pillar to watch as the colossal doors slammed shut. Ethyl held her finger to her lips, motioning at Atton to move back into a side corridor. How had the man broken the Force lock on the door?

Stepping carefully over the stone floor, they slinked into the shadows and watched as the young man put his hands in his pockets and slowly walked down the main corridor, staring up at the magnificent pillars and shafts of sunlight timidly making their way down from the high sky-lights. Flecks of dust stood transposed by the light and drifted idly out of the young man's path.

With a very handsome appearance, dark blonde hair, and a little bit of stubble, Atton thought to himself that the young man should be in a holovid rather than a Jedi Temple.

Atton's boot squeaked against the stone floor and he winced. The young man spun around, looking frantically for the source of the sound, "Hello?" he called.

Ethyl pulled Atton further into the shadows and he felt himself holding his breath. He closed his eyes, wishing to make himself lost as he recited hyperspace coordinates and played pazaak in his head.

The young man glanced around nervously, "I know you're there..." then with renewed boldness, his hand slipped inside his coat, "Reveal yourself!"

Atton turned his head and whispered to Ethyl, "He has a pistol."

Ethyl smiled, she whispered back, "I know. I sensed it as he came in. He'd forgotten about it which tells me he's inexperienced."

"He's not one of Hagan Juul's men?" Atton asked.

Ethyl shook her head. "His men aren't amatures... this man... I don't know what he is. He came here to find a solution to a problem and expects someone to be here."

"How did he get in?"

"Very strong in the Force," she replied, her shadowed face starting to look troubled, "I can't even figure who he's looking for. I don't think he's even sure himself."

They watched as the young man pulled out the pistol and held it in his left hand –Atton almost wanted to snicker at how inexperienced this boy was. The youth then held the pistol in a two-handed grip and stuck close to the pillars, his back to the shadowy corridor where they hid.

_Atton watched in surprise as Ethyl slipped his lightsaber from his belt and stepped quietly out of the shadows. Pulling her hood up over her head and down over her eyes, she approached the boy. As she neared him, he suddenly spun and fired off five quick shots which would have all hit her center-chest had she not ignited the lightsaber and artfully spun it, deflecting all the shots to the stone floor around the youth. He stepped back, his eyes wide. The pistol was still aimed at Ethyl's chest, wavering slightly in his unsteady hands. She stayed where she was, en guard. _

"Are you the person she wanted me to see?" he asked, his voice timid but with a firm resolve behind it. His green eyes glittered in the dim light, hiding a strength or courage of some large magnitude.

"I don't know," Ethyl responded. "It would depend on who you are and where you come from."

"I'm a detective," the boy said. He couldn't barely be out of school, however muscular and tall he was, "I can show you my badge if you want, but it's inside my coat."

Ethyl switched off the lightsaber and shrugged. "Put down the pistol and take it out."

He lowered the pistol, however still wary. He slowly reached inside his trench coat and offered her his ID. She took a glance at it. "Erv? Where's your last name?"

"Never was told it," he responded. "My social security number is enough for everyone who wants one for a form or slip."

"Wonderful," she grinned, "So when you marry, there will be a... Mrs. 7634927CGD..."

He blushed, putting the badge back in his coat pocket. "Who are you?" he asked.

"My name is of no meaning for why you are here, I feel," she said cryptically. "What made you think there was something to find here?"

"I... I don't know," he looked down, feeling foolish. "I had a vision of sorts... a woman told me to come here and help somebody."

Ethyl put Atton's lightsaber in her belt. "I'm a Jedi. Feel free to tell me about the real vision."

He blushed once more, then glanced around, "There's someone else here?"

She turned back and motioned Atton out of the shadows. He walked up and took his lightsaber from her belt. "Mine."

Erv glanced at him, then looked back at Ethyl. "I was assisting with an orbital case," he began his story. "My superiors use my skills to find the truth behind a victim's death and the happenings leading up to their death. The COHDA couldn't board a vessel and asked me to come up and try and take a look at it using the Force. I did and something happened to me which I've never had happen before..."

He glanced nervously around, as if afraid the walls had ears. "I went back in time like how I usually can, but then I entered the mind of the victim... while she was still alive. She knew from her time – in the past – that I would come three days later... in her future. She... she had a message for me."

Erv ran a hand through his dark blonde hair and let out a stressed sigh. "She said that she was poisoned and that she was about to die. She was making a bomb of some sort so that if someone used the Force around her ship, it would blow up. It had a weird crystal like thing in it with lots of wires and stuff," he slowed down as he was starting to jabber. He wiped a bit of sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his coat, "I'm sorry... too much has happened this morning."

"It's alright," Ethyl gently pushed him forward, "we're listening."

Erv nodded and pressed his lips together, "She said that someone was after her and her... her sisters. He said that if I bumped into any of them, they would help me in... some sort of quest I had to do. Last thing she said before the vision ended was that I was to come here to meet someone... or something."

"What was her name?" Atton asked, feeling that Ethyl had gone into a thoughtful world of her own as she stood there, two fingers pressed against her lips, one tapping on her chin.

"She said her name was-"

"Mirzelle," Ethyl straightened up. "It was Mirzelle."

"You knew her?" Erv asked, confused.

"I'm her sister."

Erv suddenly looked scared. His brows furrowed in frustration and he cried out, "But she was Revan!"

Ethyl pulled back her hood and Erv gasped, taking a few unsteady steps backward. He shook his head, "I don't understand."

"We're clones," Ethyl explained. "A sith is planning to unleash our first clone sister upon the galaxy as she is heavily entertwined with the Dark Side... we need to find the real Revan to destroy this sith."

Erv shook his head and pointed a shaky finger at Atton, "So, who are you? Malak's clone?"

"I'm much more handsome than that oaf."

(Ethyl watched with some amusement the likeness that Erv had to Atton in the same way he had responded to the unveiling and the clone-talk.)

"Alright," Ethyl said, shaking her head, "Erv, call me Ethyl. Obviously Mirzelle knew something about us being here... she had a way of knowing," she smiled just a little fondly, then shook her head again, "We need to leave."

"Yeah, so I guess you want me to lead the way?" Atton asked.

"Yeah..." she grinned, "Got a ship?"

"No," he sighed. How had she overlooked this step? It just didn't make sense that a clone of Revan had just made such a big mistake of leaving something out of her calculations.

Ethyl just looked at him. He looked back, then glanced at the floor. No... there was no way she was thinking that. There was no way she could have even known he had done anything like that, right?

"Okay, I don't do those sorts of things, anymore, all right?" he protested, "I'm way too old to be stealing ships."

"Hm," Ethyl shrugged and took a few steps away, turning her back as she seemed to do when she was thinking. With a funny look in her blue eyes, and something resembling a smirk on her crimson lips, she turned back. "So, you've aged considerably in the past four days, I see."

"What are you talking about?" he asked, trying his best not to give anything away. Sadly, even he knew he wasn't as fast as he used to be at throwing up the walls of pazaak and hyperspace routes. "Did you just probe my mind?" he demanded.

She smiled and shook her head. "No, not at all. The shipping logs on Nar Shadaa report that a shipload of spice went missing about four days ago. Eyewitnesses described an unruly and drunk character that was last seen near the Twilight Stalker. With considerable prowess, he piloted that ship out of the system with far more skill than even the sober starfighter pilots sent after him."

"Ah," he said, then with a goofy smile, he continued. "Well, that does sound like me."

She inclined her head regally. "So, where is it now?"

"Floating. Somewhere," he murmured, raking his brain to find the memory. "In Mandalorian space..."

Ethyl's slender eyebrow rose a fraction. He shook his head. "Don't ask."

"Would it be hard to pull off the same thing here on Coruscant?" she questioned.

"A lot harder," he said, his mind raking up all the worst things that could happen. He used to live illegally, but he had changed... and that thing four days ago was just a... thing. He'd been drunk. That sort of thing happened when he was drunk.

"Every hangar door is protected by a magnetic field that would fry the ship's circuitry if we don't get the proper codes. Then there's tractor beams, security droids... and if the magnetic field doesn't fry the circuitry, it will have a slave-circuit which means that a remote could easily just steer us back in to the docks."

"Yeah, well, we can easily over-power the droids. Disabling the magnetic field and getting the codes would be a more difficult-... what do you think you're doing?" she demanded, looking at Erv.

The boy stood there, a reluctant expression on his youthful and handsome face. He glanced down at the small comlink that he had just plugged a miniature police transmitter device and recorder into. His eyes rose to meet Ethyl's strict glare. "I can get you two arrested for plotting a crime like this," he said. Atton was quite impressed by the boy's daring tone, if not a little annoyed that the kid was intent on calling the cops down on them.

Ethyl stepped closer, as if to take the comlink from Erv's grasp, but he held it back out of her reach. "All I have to do is press this button if I want to send your conversation back to HQ," he said, his voice less courageous this time. It wavered somewhat.

There was a tense silence as Ethyl stood there in front of the boy some four years younger than herself. His adam's apple bobbed up and down as he stared back into her glare. Finally, Ethyl softened her gaze, letting her arms hang loosely at her sides. "What are you doing?" she asked, quietly.

"I... I don't know," he stammered, his finger hovering over one of the comlink's buttons. "I thought I would want to stop you, but..."

Ethyl shook her head, taking the moment of uncertainty to her advantage as she moved forwards, her cloak swishing slightly behind her. "It's okay, Erv," she soothed. "Put down the comlink. You can help us."

He licked his lips nervously. "How can I even trust you?"

"How do people go through life without taking risks?" she softly asked in return.

His eyes shifted behind Ethyl to Atton. "He's stolen ships before. Is he a criminal?" he asked, as if he knew the answer already.

Ethyl glanced back at Atton, grinned, then looked to Erv again. "Yeah, but he's okay. You could say he's a Jedi of sorts."

"Dark Jedi," Erv murmured.

Ethyl shook her head, then motioned to the comlink. "I think I'll wait for you to put down that recorder before saying anything more."

He took another nervous look at Atton, then lowered his arm, offering the comlink and attachments to Ethyl. She smiled and closed his fingers back over the items. "Keep them. They aren't mine to take. Choose to do what you will with them, but please hear us out."

Nodding, he put the comlink in a pocket of his black trench coat. Licking his lips again, he lifted his chin so he was looking straight into Ethyl's face. "Who is that guy?" he asked, his finger flickering up to motion at Atton.

"I'm here, y'know," Atton mumbled.

"That's Atton," Ethyl responded. "He was given unofficial training by a Jedi Knight and never really gave up his... previous ways."

"Hey!" Atton exclaimed. "I've changed."

Ethyl turned around, a smile slowly spreading across her flawless face. "So, that excitement I can feel through the Force isn't about a possible new adventure? Stealing a ship, jumping to hyperspace into a situation of who-knows-what? I dare you to tell me it doesn't raise your heartbeat."

"I'm too old for that," Atton said, moodily. He knew she was right... he was far too curious and mischevious. He would never be able to kick the scoundrel from his life.

"Well, if you say so," she shrugged. "You'll be having heart-attacks before you know it, the way you go on about being too old."

"Oi-"

"So what are we doing?" Erv asked, interrupting Atton. The latter sent the youth a dirty look.

"We need to get into the docks, grab a ship, then follow Atton's coordinates to wherever our last lead was," Ethyl said.

She looked at Erv, then at Atton. "So, where do we start?"

"Why would you think I'd know?" Atton retorted, gruffly, suddenly not feeling in such a good mood. Hell, today had just been plain weird... or last night, at least. Perhaps both.

"We really don't have to do this in this way," Erv said. "I'm a detective, I have contacts. I could arrange a police escort, maybe send a priority message to the Republic military-"

"No!" Ethyl snapped. Atton glanced at her, feeling a wince tug at the corners of his eyes. Obviously it had affected the boy badly also, as his hand slipped to the holster of his pistol while he took a cautious step back. The expression on Ethyl's face bordered on the aggressive frown of a maalraas.

Suddenly, her disposition changed. "I... I'm sorry, Erv. I mean that-.." she stammered.

Swooping in to rescue her, Atton spoke up. "What Ethyl means to say in her own eloquent jedi way, Erv, is that a job like this requires subtlety," he said, shooting Ethyl a wary glare. "If police school is still teaching youngsters like you anything useful, it's that warfare at most times depends on this fundamental element we like to call attrition. You don't send entire armies out to root out a single Dark Jedi. Large armies are difficult to fight head-on, but easy to slip through. They're clumsy. Unlike a small strike team, of course, and that's where we come in."

Erv's grip on his blaster relaxed and his hand dropped once again to his side. "So why am I here? I'm no commando," he murmured.

"You said so yourself. One of those freaky Revan clones chose you," Atton said, patting him on the back as in congratulations. "Call it the Force, or just dumb luck, kid, but that's the way these things normally work. Trouble comes to you."

The youth glared back at him, cocky and defiant even as he knew he was outnumbered. In a way, it reminded Atton of his own self. Erv's lip curled. "That's _not_ how it works."

"Stick around long enough and you'll see the pattern," Atton grumbled back. "Let's get to finding out about this spacedock."

"We can activate one of the computer consoles upstairs," Ethyl said quietly.

Atton nodded. "Good idea. Hey, Erv, after you."

The youth eagerly trotted out ahead of them as they made their way along the massive corridor. Atton found that Ethyl matched his pace. He glanced at her face. Surprised, he found that she looked saddened.

"Do you really think a clone is a freak?" she murmured quietly, so Erv couldn't hear.

"Wha-... no!" Atton exclaimed, then quickly matched her tone. "I was just saying that so he could feel someone was on the same wave-length as him."

"You truly are messed up," she said, her voice blank.

"'Scuse me?"

"He thinks the practice of cloning is cruel, but feels sorry for both me and Mirzelle," Ethyl replied quietly.

Before they reached the massive staircase, Atton glanced back at Ethyl. "So he thinks I hate clones, now?"

"Why so worried about appearances, Atton? Do you like him?" she smiled and quickened her pace so Atton couldn't say anymore on the subject without Erv overhearing. Atton watched her go and shook his head in frustration.


End file.
